Likewise it is unknown whether the rebellion of Wild Eadric was in some way related to the ?theling’s campaign, or whether he was operating independently. Indeed Eadric’s aims could well have been less grand than I have supposed – possibly no more than the restitution of his lands and those of his followers – and his actions rather more opportunistic. Orderic, who is one of the principal sources for these years, writes in vague terms of large numbers of the leading men of England and Wales meeting together and sending messengers across Britain in order to instigate risings against the Normans. While this particular episode refers to a point in his narrative relating to 1068, his chronology is not always reliable, and so it is entirely possible that this could refer to later events. If that is the case, it implies an element of co-ordination between the various risings that engulfed the kingdom at this time, although it would perhaps be a step too far to suggest that there was any grand strategy.
The motives of the Danes are, like those of Wild Eadric, shrouded in mystery. Sweyn’s belief that he had a claim to the crown of England is recorded both by Orderic and by the late-eleventh-century German chronicler Adam of Bremen, who writes that he had been promised the succession by King Edward the Confessor (reigned 1042–66). Regardless of the veracity of this, neither the Danes’ alliance with Eadgar ?theling nor their later actions suggest that they arrived with conquest in mind. Possibly they intended to install Eadgar as a kind of puppet ruler, or perhaps Sweyn merely sought to take advantage of the troubles elsewhere in England and the weakness of the Normans’ grip on the kingdom to plunder widely and exact as large a tribute as possible, in which case it could be said that the expedition proved successful, since as the campaigning season came to a close and winter set in, King Guillaume eventually did negotiate with them. The question of exactly what the Danes were trying to accomplish is one of the great unknowns that continues to puzzle historians of this period, and we can only speculate.
The Splintered Kingdom reaches its conclusion as the infamous Harrying of the North, one of the defining episodes of the Conquest, is getting under way. For a novelist such as myself writing from the viewpoint of a Norman knight, this presents an obvious problem, for this was a thoroughly despicable act on the part of the invaders for which there is no defence. The widespread despoliation of land was a tactic that was commonly used in the medieval period to deprive an enemy of resources, although the sheer scale of this particular campaign and the suffering that it inflicted upon the native people mark out the Harrying as exceptionally harsh. We cannot know how many Normans were implicated, but it seems to me that it must have divided opinion among King Guillaume’s followers. Orderic, who is otherwise full of praise for the king and his achievements, roundly condemned him for this horrific deed, and doubtless his sentiments were shared by many others both at the time and later.
A similar, long-forgotten atrocity could well have inspired the lines of poetry spoken by ?dda, which come from an Anglo-Saxon text of unknown origin known to scholars of the period as ‘The Ruin’. A lament on faded glories, the passage of time and the depredations wrought by wyrd (an Old English term for ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’), it uses the image of a decayed Roman city, often identified with the remains of Aquae Sulis in modern-day Bath, as a metaphor for the transitory nature of power and material wealth.
The events depicted in The Splintered Kingdom scarred England for years to come. Nevertheless, even after the culmination of the Harrying of the North, the Normans’ gains were still far from secure. Thus even as Tancred strives to rebuild that which he has lost, before too long he will find himself called upon to face fresh challenges and new enemies.
Acknowledgements
ONE NAME APPEARS on the title page of this book, but many other people have contributed at various stages of its development, and without their help it would not be the novel that it is.
The linguistic landscape of eleventh-century Britain was complex, and I am indebted to several members of the Department of Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic at the University of Cambridge for guiding me through it. Dr Richard Dance of St Catherine’s College kindly translated several passages of modern English dialogue into Old English, while I have Dr Paul Russell and most especially Silva Nurmio to thank for their time and effort spent providing me with nuanced translations into Middle Welsh.
For their helpful advice, suggestions and support I am grateful to Tricia Wastvedt, Beverly Stark, Liz Pile, Jonathan Carr, Jules Stanbridge and Gordon Egginton, who all read and commented on various sections of the novel in draft form. Their generous feedback has been immensely valuable, and I consider myself fortunate to be a member of such a wonderful and talented circle of writers.
Many thanks also go to my editor, Rosie de Courcy, together with Nicola Taplin, Amelia Harvell, Katherine Murphy and everyone else at Random House for their hard work behind the scenes, as well as to my copy-editor, Richenda Todd, whose insights and close attention to detail have proved enormously helpful in shaping this novel into its final form.
Last but certainly not least, many, many thanks to my friends and family and to Laura for all their support, belief and encouragement along the way.